"Ginny is going to kill me for telling you this, but I really think you should know."
Harry's ominous statement caused Ron to abruptly look up from the half-completed expense report that George was expecting later that evening. He had just closed the joke shop for the day and Harry, per their usual routine, had stopped by after working at the Ministry. Harry was leaning on the counter where the customers made their purchases and Ron stood on the other side.
"What is it?" he asked warily, setting aside quill and parchment to give his best friend his full attention.
Harry adjusted his glasses before saying, "Hermione is coming back tomorrow."
The announcement was met by stunned silence. Ron had been waiting for this moment since the day she left for Australia without telling him of her intentions or even saying goodbye. Well, technically that wasn't true. She had graciously left him a brief note, handed to him by Ginny on the morning of Hermione's departure. He could clearly remember the feeling of apprehension as he accepted the folded parchment and read her message, dread mingling uncomfortably with disbelief. He didn't want to accept that she was gone or that she had left without taking him with her.
Ron could still remember what she had written. He had read the note until it seemed as if each word scrawled by her tidy handwriting had been tattooed in his mind, though the message was so succinct that it could easily be memorized:
Dear Ron,
By the time you get this, I will be on my way to Australia. I will miss you every day we're apart, but I need to do this on my own. I hope you understand.
Love from Hermione
I need to do this on my own. Did she shoulder the burden because she knew he wasn't strong enough to help her carry the load? It was common knowledge that he was the weakest out of the three of them, but damn it, he would have tried his best. For her, he would do anything. But could he blame her for not wanting him to slow her down? He could be bitter about it, even though they both knew it to be true, but he couldn't condemn her for it.
I hope you understand. Understand what? That because he had abandoned her while they were out hunting for Horcruxes, then he should be fine with her own abrupt desertion? Was this her way of teaching him a lesson?
These thoughts plagued him every day throughout the year they spent apart, and he vowed to demand the answers from her as soon as she returned. But now that Hermione was on her way back, he found that he was no longer certain he wanted to know her reasons.
"Ron? Ron, are you all right?" He felt Harry shaking his shoulder, as if to snap him out of his stupor. "It's quite a shock, isn't it?"
To say the least. All Ron could manage was nod. Expense report forgotten, he moved away from the counter to pace, his brow furrowed as he tried to quell the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. A flood of questions struggled against each other to reach the surface, but he only asked one. "Why didn't she tell me?" Ron was sure Harry was aware that he wasn't talking about Ginny.
"Maybe she wanted to surprise you," Harry answered. "I'm sure that's it." There was more sympathy than certainty in his tone.
Or maybe she didn't want me to know, Ron silently retorted. Though he had no idea why she thought it would remain hidden. Her impending return affected not just him, Harry, and Ginny, but the rest of his family as well. If she wanted her return to be a secret, it would inevitably be one that was poorly kept.
"She'll be here by tomorrow afternoon. You can ask her yourself then…if you want to."
"Right." Ron didn't bother filtering the doubt from his voice.
A few minutes later, Harry Disapparated to 12 Grimmauld Place and Ron was alone with only his thoughts for company. He discovered that it no longer mattered that she wanted him unaware of her return. Whether Hermione slipped back into his life unnoticed or with a grand announcement, her homecoming wouldn't sit comfortably with him, not with the way she left. Just hearing the news felt like an old wound being ripped open, a wound that had taken a very long time to close, and even then it did not heal properly. Although he suffered, he longed to see her again.
I will miss you every day we're apart. In that, at least, they were in perfect agreement.
Hermione actually had arrived the very same evening that Ron received the news, but it had been a long flight back and she was exhausted, so she was correct in guessing that she would need the extra time to recuperate. As much as her body wanted to succumb to sleep, she remained awake and alert, idly brushing her hair as she sat on the foot of her bed.
If she allowed herself to be truly honest, then she could admit that she also needed this time to prepare for the emotional onslaught that would undoubtedly come once she saw Ron again. "One whole year," she murmured. A year since she had seen him last. A year since she had her lips on his, a year since he had his arms around her. An entire year without contact of any kind.
She glanced at the thick stack of envelopes that were on top of her dresser. She had written him every day, but couldn't bring herself to send him the letters. Each night, after hours of fruitless searching for her parents, she would pour her heart out on pages of blank paper until her hand began to cramp. Then she would seal her feelings and fears in an envelope, which would then be hidden away in a desk drawer, never to come into the possession of the person she addressed it to. She had debated with herself many times about sending them, but she could clearly picture how he would react. She knew he would do whatever it took to get to her, to help her and be with her, and as much as she wanted—no, needed—him there, it was important that he stay away. It was for her own good, and his.
She knew she had left him callously, with only a pithy note to provide a semblance of an explanation, but she thought it would make her departure easier. He would have gone with her had she asked; he would go even if she didn't pose the question, which was exactly why she had snuck away like a thief in the night, designating Ginny to be the bearer of unwelcome news.
Finding her parents was a duty that Hermione solely carried, a responsibility that she refused to share with anyone. Not Ron, not Harry, not the Ministry. It was, as she saw it, her penance for doing something she deemed unforgivable. By erasing her parents' memories and planting them in a foreign country, she had stolen a sizable portion of their lives, all without their permission. It may have been a precautionary measure, an act for the sake of their safety, but she still had a hard time looking into their eyes, or even at her own reflection in the mirror, without drowning in a wave of guilt.
She would have to face him tomorrow and it excited and unnerved her simultaneously. How much had he changed? How much had she changed? So much can happen in the span of a year. What if he had moved on and found someone else? Her fingers tightened around the hairbrush as she forced the thought out of her mind. She hadn't asked him to wait for her or to make any promises. How could she, when she had no idea how long she'd be in Australia? What if it had taken five years to find her parents? It wouldn't be fair to tie him down when the future was so unclear.
Restless, Hermione left her room and padded along the hallway, taking care not to make any noise. She stealthily pushed open the door to her parents' bedroom, sighing as she leaned on the doorway and watched them sleep. At last, they were a family again. It reassured her to see them safe and under the same roof as her. It would be a while before she could stop worrying that they wouldn't somehow disappear in the middle of the night. She fought the childish urge to climb into bed with them, to seek the comfort they always provided simply by being present.
"They'll still be here in the morning," she whispered. They weren't going anywhere.
Hermione returned to her own room and climbed under her blankets, knowing that no matter how hard she tried to find solace in slumber, it would be a futile effort. It would be another sleepless night to add to her running streak of sleepless nights, stretching back to her first night in Australia and away from home…away from her parents, and away from Ron. As she lied there under the pretense of rest, she wondered what tomorrow would bring.
Unsurprisingly, word of Hermione's return spread quickly throughout the Weasley family. Ginny, after apologizing to Ron for not telling him in the first place, had communicated the news to everyone else. In no time—it certainly paid off to be part of a large family of wizards and witches when it came to moments such as these—the Burrow was decorated for a homecoming party.
Ron stared blankly the colorful banner Ginny had raised. "You don't even know if she's coming."
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," she snapped. "Of course she'll be here." Immediately, she regretted her tone. "Look, it'll be okay. I know it has been a year—"
He cut her off with a glare that clearly let her know that nothing she could possibly say would put him at ease with the situation. "I'm going outside," he grumbled, stalking off before she could object. "Just leave him alone," he overheard Harry say before he made it to the front yard.
Ron squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sun that shone unimpeded. It'll be okay? How can anything be okay when his life has been turned upside down? He searched for something he could use to vent his frustration—a garden gnome to fling, a Quaffle to throw, anything—but ended up jamming his hands in his pockets when he came up empty.
Sleep eluded him last night, understandably so. He spent the time trying to sort out his feelings about Hermione's homecoming, but gave up figuring it out when the sunbeams filtered through his window. It was hopeless to attempt labeling what he was going through. How could Ginny, or anyone else, for that matter, try to understand how he felt when even he couldn't make sense of it all? Maybe when he saw her again, he'd gain some clarity. But when she Apparated a short distance away, his mind was wiped clean.
Hermione drew in her breath sharply when she saw Ron waiting outside, as if he'd known the exact moment she would arrive. She clamped down the urge to run to him, partly because she wasn't sure how welcoming he would be, but mainly because she wanted to take in the sight of him. He had grown even taller in her absence and the lanky boy she had left behind had turned into a fit young man. His hair shone brightly under the sun, like a beacon guiding her back to where she belonged. She faltered when she noted the unreadable expression on his face, but steeled her resolve and continued. What did she expect? With the way she had left him, she most certainly wasn't going to receive one of his ear-splitting grins simply because she had returned. It would take some time before they were back to that level. If he didn't hate her, that is.
Had she always been beautiful? Ron asked himself. Or did he think she was because he hadn't seen her in so long? Either way, he couldn't take his eyes off her. A few stubborn tendrils had escaped the elastic she used to tie her hair back. She wore a loose-fitting shirt, but it wasn't so shapeless that he couldn't appreciate her slender form. She had a slight tan and it suited her perfectly. His fingers itched to trace the curves of her face and neck, to touch her surprisingly soft skin. She looked tired, he noted as she continued to make her way towards him. Beautiful, perhaps, but tired.
Hermione stopped when she was an arm's length away. What now? Questions raced frantically through her head as the tension threatened to consume her. She had no idea what to do, or how to act. Should she shake his hand like an acquaintance? Kiss his cheek as if they were merely friends? The best she could offer was a shaky smile, and she was so caught up in wondering how she should conduct herself that his struggle, very much identical to her own, escaped her notice.
True to his nature, Ron went with instinct and wrapped her in an embrace before he had time to change his mind, before he could realize how stupid it was to flirt with temptation. When you play with fire, you get burned, and Hermione was a flame that he was powerless to resist, at least in that very moment. He couldn't remain aloof with her right now, not when she was finally within reach.
Her utter surprise at his unexpected gesture caused her to stiffen, but almost instantly she relaxed, her body practically melting into his. This felt so good, so right. Hermione sighed contentedly as she listened to his heartbeat and felt the warmth radiating from him. His chin brushed the top of her head, calling to mind two pieces of a puzzle—a very complicated puzzle—clicking into place. He stepped back slightly so he could see her face.
"Welcome home," he said softly.
Her eyes filled with tears at the simplicity and poignancy of his remark. She realized that she didn't truly feel like she was home until now, as she stood in the circle of his arms, basking in the comfort and familiarity of their intimate stance. She continued to gaze up at him, unknowingly stroking the back of his neck with her fingertips. "Ron—"
She was cut off by Ginny, who practically launched herself towards Hermione in excitement. "You're really here. I can't believe you're here!"
She warmly returned Ginny's enthusiastic embrace and Harry greeted her with his own hug and a kiss on the cheek, just about prying Ginny away so he could have his turn. "Welcome back, Hermione," he remarked.
"Thank you." She glanced over at Ron and her heart sank. She watched as his expression changed, almost as if he'd been doused with cold water and he was snapping out of a moment he shouldn't have indulged in. It was clear that even though he stood only a few steps away, he had quite effectively detached himself from the three of them.
"How does it feel to be back?" Ginny demanded eagerly.
She made herself focus on her and Harry. "I'll miss the Australian sunshine, but other than that, it's wonderful to be home," Hermione replied.
"Come on! Everyone's waiting to see you." Ginny grabbed her hand and all but dragged her towards the house. Hermione looked over at Ron once more before hastening her step to keep up with her escort.
"Sorry. I tried to stop her, but when she saw Hermione through the window..." Harry trailed off and shrugged sheepishly. "I'd have better luck stopping a charging herd of Centaurs."
"It's fine," Ron reassured him as they headed back inside. It was more than fine; in fact, he was incredibly grateful for the interruption. He had been dangerously close to forgetting that he was angry with Hermione. When he held her, feelings and emotions that he had spent a whole year stifling suddenly rushed into him, like a dam bursting from prolonged pressure. It would have been too easy to be swept away in those feelings, to drown himself in her. He had to keep a level head and stay afloat.
"You two looked like you were having a...moment."
"It was nothing." Or so he told himself. It could very well have been a spark that would eventually—or quickly—turn into a flame, but he refused to acknowledge that possibility. It was nothing because he didn't want it to be anything. Or did he? It would seem that Hermione's arrival did nothing more than present additional questions that needed answering, questions that he now couldn't bring himself to ask. Ron scowled as he pushed the door open to cacophonous chatter.
Hermione caught Ron's eye when he and Harry walked in, but she quickly shifted her attention back to Victoire. "She's beautiful," she told Bill and Fleur as she handed the baby back to them.
"But of course," Fleur replied matter-of-factly. "She gets 'er looks from 'er papa."
"Hermione, dear, the food is ready. Why don't we eat?" Mrs. Weasley suggested, beaming at Hermione as if she were a long-lost daughter now reunited with her family.
"That sounds great." She had no appetite whatsoever; whether that was the result of jet lag or Ron's disconcerting stare, she couldn't say. "I missed your cooking."
As it turned out, she didn't have to feign hunger since she was so busy answering questions about the trip. She was immensely relieved that no one prodded her for details about how she had found her parents, as if each member of the Weasley family and Harry had all come to an unspoken agreement about the unquestionably sensitive topic. The only time they were brought up was when Mrs. Weasley asked how her parents were doing, and Hermione had provided a brief reply, informing her that they were well and resting at home.
All the while, Ron remained silent, studying her as if she were a slide under a microscope. She wanted to shout at him. What was he hoping to find by pinning her with his watchful and seemingly unblinking gaze? Unnerved by his blatant scrutiny, she started saying her goodbyes. Looking at her watch, she noted that she had been at the Burrow for more than four hours. She needed to hurry home and be with her parents; she didn't want them to think she had abandoned them. Her struggle with guilt began anew.
"Thank you for the lovely party," she said as she went around hugging everyone. Hermione belatedly realized that she would now have to hug Ron as well. Not that she didn't want to do it, but would he welcome an embrace that she initiated? Apart from that fleeting moment they had outside, his behavior indicated that he wanted nothing to do with her. It would be awkward if she ignored him, however, not to mention that it would be obvious that something was not right between them.
He surprised her by saying, "I'll walk you out," and saving her from the dilemma. He quickly left without waiting for her, forcing Hermione to rush after him.
Fed up with his aloofness, she snapped, "Now that there's no one watching, you can drop the act. Not that it's much of an act to begin with. You can barely pretend that you want me here. I can take a hint." It crushed her when Ron didn't even bother to refute her claims. His stony silence was damning enough. Her voice of reason kept insisting that she should dismiss him and leave behind the unpleasantness that marred her homecoming, but she remained right where she was, her anger bubbling dangerously to the surface.
"Say something!" she demanded. "I'd rather you hate me than be indifferent." Anything was better than this.
His mind was foggier than one of Trelawney's crystal balls, but he was certain that hate wasn't among the feelings churning around inside him. Hate Hermione? He had tried so hard to convince himself that he should, that he had every right to, but he simply couldn't.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. His tone was quiet, but the urgency in his voice was unmistakable. "Why didn't you want me to know you were coming home?"
"Because I was afraid that it wouldn't matter to you. If you no longer cared...I don't think I can bear it."
Didn't she know that when she left a year ago, she had ripped his heart out and taken it with her? Even now she still held it. Dissatisfied with her answer and offended that she believed him capable of disinterest, he retorted angrily, "How could you think it wouldn't matter? I'm not the one who's heartless!"
"Heartless? How dare you!" she exclaimed, interrupting his tirade. "You have no idea—"
"You're the one who left without saying goodbye," he barreled on. "You're the one who doesn't care—"
"If you honestly believe that I don't care about you, then you're even stupider than I remembered," she said in a voice that shook with anger. Perilously close to tears, she Disapparated before he could argue.
Ron debated going after her, but what would that accomplish? This entire day—the whole year they were apart, really—has been brutal for him. He simply did not have the energy to fight. Hurt and discouraged, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he retreated inside.